


Another

by Solta_Brasa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solta_Brasa/pseuds/Solta_Brasa
Summary: In a practical manner, Jim knew Sebastian was replaceable. Everybody was. They all had a purpose in the grand scheme of things, but none was invaluable or "special."So Sebastian shouldn't be any different. He shouldn't be someone Jim would come to trust, to have strong-not-really-specified feelings for. His name shouldn't be the first to come to his mouth and his life shouldn't be the first singular, priceless, unparrelleled little thing that Jim could never replace with another.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Kudos: 13





	Another

**Author's Note:**

> So... that's my first story here :)  
> Whatever happens, I'm just glad it's with my otp. I've been wishing to write something with them for a long time <3  
> My mother tongue is not english, but I tried...? Any mistakes are my own, feel free to point them out if you'd like to help :)  
> Truth be told, there are too many smiles in these notes for such a sad little story.

“Boss, the Denver brothers are causing trouble again.”

“Send Moran.”

“Of cour-” Willow halted, the word dying still in her lips.

Jim was dedicating only partial attention to the exchange of words between them, but the sudden silence bothered him. Taking his eyes off the papers aligned on his desk, he traveled his eyes through the woman’s face and body language, looking for answers that would save him questions. Willow was purposefully looking anywhere else aside from him. Her face was unusually blank, making it slightly more difficult to read what she was hiding under the surface.

Jim found it very odd, very _annoying_ , and mentally rewound what was previously said to identify what could have caused such a reaction.

The problem with the Danvers was a recurring topic. They have made a deal with Moriarty and now were rudely declining to do their part, thinking they could get away with it. Silly boys, really. Jim wasn’t one to give second chances, so they needed to _go,_ immediately _,_ and no one better to finish the job nice and clean than Sebas-

Oh.

The few pieces of the puzzle came together.

He knew why Willow was still there, playing invisible, when typically she would be already out the door, following his orders. She was trying not to make things worse by saying something. The motive was obvious, really. How could she do as the boss said, how could she send Moran to erase the problem, if he wasn’t there?

Jim glanced quickly around, analyzing. He was at the appalling home of his most recent character, alias Richard Brook. Couldn’t remember for how long, though. Could have slept in the chair, and it could have been last night, or before. And the doubts didn’t stop there. Where did Willow come from? Did he call her? _When?_ His mind was a mist. Maybe he hasn’t slept, after all. The only thing he was certain was that he couldn’t stop working. He just stopped when Seb- _when there was another distraction._ There was no other distraction, now.

He realized how far more disturbed than he imagined he was when he took a look at his clothes. _Dirty._ He felt dirty all over the place, and he knew he couldn’t go home to clean up, not _his_ home, because... Because there was nowhere to go back to. There was a fire, an explosion, and everything was gone, just ashes in the ground disappearing among the snow. He could remember being the cause of the fire, his fingers around the final match, but why would he do such a thing?

 _It was wrong_ , he reminded himself. _It was empty, maddeningly boring._ It had enraged Jim, crawled under his skin, in and out, until he couldn’t handle it anymore. _It was WRONG._ _It_ _was_ _missing something_ _. It was missing S-_

 _No!_ Jim Moriarty had no pressure points, no weak spots. He had not, _he could not._

He was tired, a lot, but still had enough self-control to raise his hand and sign for his underling to leave, expressing no emotion as he corrected his last statement: “Send another.”

And he knew Willow would understand and send another capable gun for hire. Someone Jim wouldn’t remember the name, someone he didn’t care about. Someone that would do the job, then go on their way, and Jim wouldn’t hear of them until once more their services was deemed necessary. How it should be.

That was all he was asking of her: to send another sniper.

It was not to send _another Sebastian_. That would be impossible.

There was no more Sebastian to spend his stupid, insulting, atrocious life for Jim, and there would never be again.


End file.
